


A Little Liquid Courage

by IndilwenofMirkwood



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jealousy, Romance, alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndilwenofMirkwood/pseuds/IndilwenofMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson and Andrew Garner have a little heart-to-heart. This one got a bit angsty, so I'm sorry about that. I blame tonight's episode of AoS. Based off of #5 "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?" Set during "One of Us"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Phil had almost forgotten what her laugh had sounded like as he stopped to listen in the darkened hallway just outside of the door, the sudden, beautiful sound sending his heart pounding away and forcing a smile onto his face. _Melinda was laughing._

And it was _glorious._

But as quickly as his grin had formed, it disappeared at the lower, distinctly masculine chuckle that followed.

He shouldn't have been as annoyed as he was. It wasn't as if he had any claim upon her other than friendship and Andrew had always been more her type anyways: charming and charismatic, with just a hint of a roguish streak about him.

Despite Andrew and Melinda's differences, she'd been happy for the short period they been married, even if she had, eventually, filed for divorce. And even though he and Andrew had never been particularly close, they'd been united in their affection for the woman they'd both come to care for.

Phil sighed as he retreated back to his office, his growling stomach no longer his sole focus.

He practically fell back in his seat, his head in his hands as he rubbed at his temples, the sudden pounding in his ears a nuisance as he reached for a bottle of bourbon that he'd hidden away.

It was perhaps an hour later, maybe two, when he heard a knock on his door, but he frowned when May didn't immediately waltz in as if she owned the place as per usual.

"It's open, May," he called, head bent low over an unfinished report as the door opened.

A throat clearing, that was definitely not Melinda, had him raising his head in confusion and he frowned unconsciously as the man stepped towards his desk, but he managed to nod in greeting.

"Garner? What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to bring you Skye's latest evaluation," Andrew relayed, holding the file out for Phil to take. "I saw your light on, figured it couldn't hurt to have it a few hours early."

He took the file carefully, it's weight far too heavy for a few pieces of paper. "How is she?"

Phil waited as Andrew sat in the chair in front of his desk.

"Skye's terrified, but she's a fighter. She'll figure it out."

Phil mulled over his words quietly as he prepared them a few fingers of bourbon, but was brought out of his thoughts by a chuckle as he handed a glass to the grinning psychologist.

"To be honest, she reminds me of Melinda."

Phil laughed lightly, thoroughly amused by the comparison, and so very aware of it's accuracy.

"May is..." Phil trailed off, suddenly unable to describe the woman he knew better than himself, but he needn't have worried, as Garner's eyes softened in understanding.

"She looks good, Phil."

He knew what Andrew meant and he couldn't help the brief flash of pain that lanced through him at the veiled mention of Bahrain and the agony she'd been drowning in since she'd come back, just a shadow of her former self.

"I have to thank you for that."

"Pardon?"

Andrew looked hesitant, but he continued. "After Bahrain, I couldn't reach her and I was so sure that she'd never be...okay, again, but she looks happy, Phil. And as much as I never wanted her back in the field, she looks comfortable. We both know that administration never suited her anyway."

A heavy pause settled over them then, before Andrew broke it suddenly, his voice far too quiet. "She was always better off with you."

A protest rose to Phil's throat quickly, but Andrew stopped him. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" he asked, suddenly defensive. "Are you psychoanalyzing me?"

But Andrews gaze was merely calculating and not truly searching, so he relaxed just a fraction.

"And anyways, she's not better off with me. I've put her in danger. I've asked her to risk her life again and then I forget to tell her how grateful I am, but you...you make her laugh."

He wanted to scream at himself for revealing so much, but it was too late to take the words back and Phil watched as a peculiar expression crossed his guest's face.

"Wait a minute," Garner mumbled. "Are you jealous?"

"Excuse me?" Phil asked, his voice perhaps a bit too high.

"You're jealous," Garner pointed out, his hand coming up so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "The both of you are ignorant."

There were so many thoughts pouring through his mind, that he had no idea which offense to acknowledge first, but Garner spoke before he could get a word in.

"How many years are the two of you going to dance around this? Or are you both just that _blind_?"

Phil failed to speak, his bewilderment knowing no bounds as Garner downed the rest of his drink and Phil took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever offense would come next.

"You love her."

_"What?"_ he croaked, his eyes widening at the implication.

"You've always loved her."

He couldn't deny it. And anyways, the words wouldn't have come if he'd tried.

"She loves you too, you know."

But Phil was already shaking his head, "No, she doesn't."

"Please tell me you're kidding." At Phil's blank stare, a stark realization presented itself to the doctor. "You're not kidding."

Garner looked as astonished as Phil had ever seen. "She came back into the field for you, a place she swore she'd never see again-"

"She was under orders, Fury's orders. That means nothing," he retorted irritably, standing on his feet and pacing behind his desk.

"Fury's orders? Do you honestly think she would have come back for anyone but you, regardless of her orders? You mean a great deal to her."

_'You mean a lot to me. A lot.'_

Melinda's words echoed in his head and he shuddered at the memory, pushing away the tiny spark of hope that had quickly blossomed.

"You didn't see her, Phil."

Phil stopped abruptly, instinctively knowing that he was about to hear something unpleasant. "What are you talking about?"

"When you died."

The words hung heavily between them and he wished he had the strength to tell Garner that he didn't want to know, that he didn't want to hear of any more pain he may have caused her, but his throat was thick and he was unable to force the words out.

"I don't think it hit Melinda that you were gone until they'd buried you, but she stayed for hours, just staring at the fresh dirt at your grave-site, according to her mother," he informed the agent softly. "I'll admit that I had no idea about your death, but I got a phone call in the middle of the night and let me tell you, that I've never heard Tian May so terrified. I don't remember how I got inside, but Melinda was like a ghost. She'd destroyed her apartment in a fit of rage and then, when she'd exhausted herself, she just sat on the floor, completely catatonic, with a picture of the two of you in her hand and glass from the broken frames littering the floor."

Andrew stopped speaking then, allowing his words to sink in.

"And do you know what I learned that day?"

Unconsciously, Phil's eyes snapped up to his from where they'd settled on the floor as he'd listened.

"That she never needed _me_."

Phil swallowed the lump stuck in his throat at the hidden implication, whispering, "She doesn't need me either."

For the first time since Andrew had walked onto the base, Phil noticed that he just looked... _sad_. "Melinda needs you a lot more than you obviously realize. And I'm willing to bet, that it's just as much as you need her."

Phil watched silently as Garner stood, pouring a decent amount of Bourbon into Phil's glass, before replacing the lid and grabbing the bottle as he made his way to the door. "So, I've left you a little liquid courage, you know, just to get the wheels turning. Do yourself and her a favor and tell her. Trust me, she won't run—not from you."

And with that, Garner stepped out, leaving Phil behind, his heart splayed open and burning.

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't as detailed as I usually write, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways. Prompt is based off of the combination of three requests from Tumblr. (Sort of). This was supposed to have been a drabble and now it's a two chapter fic. Spoilers for episode 2x14

The car to take Andrew back to wherever he wanted to go, had left moments before, the sound of the garage door closing behind it far too disconcerting as it echoed through the base loudly.

And even though he hated to admit it, Phil was relieved. Andrew's departure meant that he and Melinda could go back to their routine, without wounds from the past eating away at either of them. Though, suddenly, their routine was lacking in some way, its appeal different, changed, and buoyed by the hope he'd failed to tamp down after his discussion with Andrew days before. Phil found that he no longer wanted their old ways, his heart now exploring new avenues, leaving behind the familiar, worn paths that were cracked and covered in dust.

Of course, he'd take what she'd give him, the old or the new, for despite how good of a psychologist Andrew Garner might be, he could still be wrong. Phil's chest ached painfully at the thought and unconsciously, he winced, his fingers running over the scar on his chest lightly, through the fabric of his shirt, as he descended the stairs and passed into the hangar.

He frowned when he reached the bottom, his gaze failing to find her in the sheen of the blinding white lights above his head.

"May?" he called uncertainly.

There came a distant sound of shuffling from above before a faint, "I'm up here, Coulson," reached his ears. He crossed the large room quickly, his footsteps somewhat hurried as he ascended another, taller set of stairs and he took care not the accidentally bash the bottles of beer in his grip against the metal railing, because they'd need a drink regardless of where this conversation went.

The breeze as he cleared the hangar roof was chilly and he forced down the resulting hiss that tried to escape his lips as he crossed the catwalk towards her.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked gently.

Melinda was sitting on the roof, well away from the walkway and he realized suddenly that she must have scaled the railing and hopped over.

"Just thinking. The cockpit, while comfortable, isn't quite the same when the windows are surrounded by metal walls," she sighed distastefully. "And I needed the fresh air."

Phil nodded, before he struggled over the rail, which was a bit harder than he'd anticipated with his suit jacket constricting his arms and two long-necks in his hands, but he managed and soon enough, he was settled beside her on the cold surface.

"A lot on your mind?"

Phil didn't expect her to explain or to even speak really, but Melinda surprised him when she opened her mouth to do just that.

"Do you ever feel like you've mishandled something?"

He swallowed thickly, his heart dropping at the realization that this conversation was a direct result of her ex-husband and he sighed uncomfortably.

"Every day of my life."

Melinda looked like she might press him for details but she paused, allowing the silence to stretch between them before she took a swig of the beer he'd brought.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bag and she looked at him quizzically.

"You brought candy?"

"Don't I always?" he replied, handing the bag to her and grinning when she scooped out a handful.

They lapsed into companionable silence, munching on Twizzlers and Swedish Fish, both his and Melinda's favorites respectively. He stretched out his feet, leaning back on his elbows as he waited for her to finish her thought.

"It's funny, Phil," she began again. "As much as I regret the way it ended between Andrew and I, I don't regret my divorce."

"Ah, so no riding off into the sunset then?" he chuckled, somewhat relieved by her admission.

"Nope. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"Always?" Phil asked, his amusement clear as she grinned.

Her eyes had softened as she stared at him and they were filled with a fondness she didn't show often enough and he relished in the sight of it.

"Always," she whispered, lifting her beer in a silent toast to which he happily returned, the click of the glass filling the cool air.

Melinda leaned back as well, her gaze turned upwards to the sky. For awhile they just simply watched, no desire to do anything other than sit with each other and watch the stars, their responsibilities on hold until morning. He was about halfway through his beer when she spoke again.

"Phil?" she asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me a secret."

He nearly choked on his drink as he laughed in surprise at her hushed demand. They hadn't played that game in years, decades even, and he was nearly overcome by a sudden rush of affection for the woman at his side. But Melinda wasn't laughing, just waiting patiently with the softest smirk he'd ever seen on her face.

He composed himself before answering, "What kind of secret, May? Besides, I thought we weren't keeping secrets anymore."

She rolled her eyes at him, but her grin was poorly hidden. "There's nothing of import that I'm keeping from you, you know that."

_'Oh, but isn't there?'_ he wondered, not for the first time, if he was imagining every look or brief touch that had transpired between them since she'd joined him back in the field. He'd never attributed it to much, but maybe, just maybe, Andrew was right. Phil was banking on it.

"Anything?" he affirmed.

Phil watched as Melinda nodded, "Just tell me something I don't know."

He stared at her.

She'd given him the perfect opportunity and he didn't know if he was more frightened by the idea of telling her how he felt or more frightened by the tender look in her eyes as he sat up to face her, but he'd already made up his mind and there was no going back.

"I'm terrified, Mel."

Immediately, she tensed, her wistful tenderness disappearing to be replaced with worry as she sidled closer.

"Of what?"

His heart was thrumming nervously in his chest as she waited next to him, close enough now to be within reach, heartfelt concern spreading onto her beautiful features.

"Because I'm in love with you," he whispered over the pounding in his ears, "and I should have told you a long time ago."

Her shock was instant, eyes wide in surprise. "What?"

"I love you," he repeated, more confident now than he had been before he followed her up here. "And I'm afraid that this will ruin everything, but I can't help it, Mel."

Hesitantly, he touched her cheek, fingers tracing lightly over her skin, that tiny twinge of hope flaring brightly as she exhaled shakily and her eyes slipped closed. He didn't know if he was pulling her closer or if she had moved first, but at the first touch of his lips against hers, he shivered into it, his other hand coming up to rest on the expanse of her neck as she reached for his collar to hold him to her. She tasted like cinnamon and ale, the sweet burn of it lingering on his tongue as he pulled her closer still, his hands moving from the taught muscles of her jaw, up and into her hair as their kiss became more desperate. He broke it, sucking in air frantically before he returned to her lips, kissing her repeatedly until his lungs were on fire as her hand drifted to the back of his head, nails scratching lightly across his scalp.

It eased naturally, their initial eagerness slowing under the secure knowledge of their mutual feelings and, eventually, she ended the kiss with a sigh, but remained close enough that the tips of their noses were touching as they breathed the same air heavily, each exhale creating a fine mist between the two of them. He kissed her cheek, which was warm under the heat of her blush, and he smiled when she leaned into his caress.

"Tell me a secret, Melinda," he begged,echoing her words from just moments before. "Please."

Her eyes opened, that soft look back in her gaze, the brown of her irises suddenly misty as she tightened her arms around his neck, her lips against the shell of his ear as she whispered:

"It took you long enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably a bit too corny, but oh well. Review?

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review!


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